Eridanus ~ A Collection Of Short Stories

The Perfect Crime

(Reviewed by WritersBlock1316)

With a briefcase in hand, I stepped out of my office that afternoon. The Morgan case was officially closed and I felt that I owed myself a short break from my detective's duties. The policemen didn't think so. Just as I made my way to my car outside, I received a call from them.

"Detective Jackson speaking," I answered almost immediately, shielding my face from the sunlight.

"Detective?" I heard the familiar voice of Officer Lane over the phone.

"Officer Lane. How can I help you?" I enquired, walking down the driveway.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance, but we need you at this place now. Number 13, Cheshire Street at Cherry Avenue. We have something for you."

"I'll be right there." I sighed, tucking the phone away. So much for my break. The keys jingled in my pocket as I took them out and started the car. I suppose it's another forensic report needed, I guessed, driving off.

I immediately headed over to the address I was given over the phone. Number 13, Cheshire street.

It was a modern bungalow that didn't really stand out among the neighbouring mansions. The paint job was relatively old and the colour was not one that was popular now, which told me that the house was atleast a generation old. Built atleast thirty years ago, I observed, parking my car outside the house and locking it. I caught sight of a red-headed woman nearby who was apparently a  neighbour. I smiled at her and walked towards the house

Number 13 was currently teeming with police officers and forensic experts. I needed someone to tell me what the matter was, so I went in search of Officer Lane. He emerged at that moment from the backdoor, followed by another officer. He walked over towards me and shook my hand.

"Ah, Detective. Glad you're hear," he remarked with a curt nod.

"What happened here, Officer?" I enquired.

He led me inside. "We were tipped off that Mileva Heinrich, the owner of this place, was in the possession of illegal firearms. Our investigation led to a couple of unlicensed revolvers in the house," he started, leading me to the backyard.

"Miss Heinrich has been booked for illegal possession of weapons and  is now facing interrogation at the police office, but here's more," Officer Lane continued.

"An old gardener was found dead here today. His wounds were caused by one of the revolvers in Miss Heinrich's possession." The officer gestured to a body bag that lay in the corner of the backyard, cordoned off. I knelt down to take a closer look. Assessing the damage, I nodded. The wounds on the man's shoulder and chest were indeed from a revolver. A Janz revolver to be exact.

I stood up and took a deep breath, glancing at the people moving around in the house. "I'll inspect the crime scene later. I want a word with Mileva Heinrich immediately," I stated, piecing together the day's incidents in my mind. A house owner, an unlicensed revolver, and a dead gardener. Was it a murder?

*******

Mileva Heinrich was 5'4" in height. Her eyes were icy blue and her caramel blond hair was short. She looked at me from opposite the glass screen, a slightly twisted smile on her face. I gazed at her for a moment, before pushing open the door to the Interrogation room and walking in.

"Miss Heinrich," I started, taking a seat opposite her. "Among the weapons that were found in your possession, the revolver interested me the most," I continued, not breaking eye contact with her.

"People don't keep Janz revolvers for decoration," I went on.

She inhaled sharply and continued gazing at me, silent.

"Your gardener was found dead today, with bullet marks that matched one of your Janz revolvers," I remarked. She leaned forward and smirked.

"You really think I'd waste a 9mm semi-automatic on such a flawed crime?" she replied and laughed softly. I narrowed my eyes.

"What would you use it for then?" I asked casually.

She shrugged. "Something more... interesting. Like the murder of a neighbour."

I was silent. Where was this heading?
"Go on."

Mileva continued. "Now today's murder was perfect. All I had to do was walk into Jane Leon's house under the guise of returning some old books. That redhead had always been a poor, unsuspecting old woman. The revolver wasn't wasted there."

"Disposing off the body of your neighbour would have posed a problem," I stated.

She smiled. "The attic was well suited. She never knew the full potential of that cosy little place."

*******

On my seemingly unusual request, Officer Lane took me back to Cheshire Street. I got out of the police car with three oficers. At the interrogation room, I remembered having seen Jane Leon, Mileva's allegedly dead neighbour, that very afternoon. The red-haired woman next door. Mileva couldn't have killed her. She had been in custody all the while. But there was something in Mileva's tone that had seemed eerie, and I instinctively felt the need to check up on Jane Leon.

Miss Leon's house, locked from the inside, yielded no answer despite repeated knocks. My blood ran cold. It simply made no sense.

Ten minutes later, with the door broken down, we found some old books strewn on the sofa inside. We spread out across the house, in search of the woman. She was nowhere to be found, and just an hour ago I had seen her near the crime scene. As I passed by the dining table, I paused. A revolver lay on the table, its muzzle still warm. I carefully picked up the weapon with a handkerchief to check for fingerprints.

"Detective? We checked the house's CCTV footage," an officer informed, walking into the room with a disk in hand.

If you're wondering where Jane Leon was, we found her in the attic. Very dead. The CCTV footage of the house showed a lady, around 5'4" with caramel blond hair, committing the murder in plain sight of the camera and there was no mistaking those icy blue eyes.

Back in her cell, Mileva smiled at an old photograph in her hand. That of her twin sister, Milana.